


Tabula Rasa

by RaeXavier



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Torture, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erotica, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hot Sex, Lima Syndrome, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 01:56:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6033760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeXavier/pseuds/RaeXavier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nadia "The Gypsy" Romancek is fresh out of prison, and if she doesn't find a legit job soon, it's back to the big house for her. Crowley knows this, and has taken an interest in her various skill sets. What he doesn't know is that he's met The Gypsy before. Crowley/OFC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Got You Where I Want You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GazDibMama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GazDibMama/gifts).



Nadia sighed and dropped into the ratty old recliner at the halfway house. She sat up and slipped her jacket from her shoulders, then swept her heavy brown waves up into a ponytail. Goosebumps pricked on the shaved sides of her head, and she hunched over in the chair and ran her fingers over the scalp tattoos there. _Another job interview gone bad._ If she didn't find a job soon… well, she didn't want to think about that right now. Not many places would hire convicted felons.

She couldn't go back to prison. Sure, she had friends there, but she could make friends on the outside, right? _Life's not meant to be lived behind bars._ Nadia still wasn't sure how she got out as early as she did. Couldn't have been for good behavior, she was almost one-hundred percent positive the warden knew she was smuggling in contraband to sell to her fellow inmates. They called her "The Gypsy," and it was pretty accurate. All she needed was a caravan and some brightly-colored scarves tied around her hips. She talked the talk, walked the walk, and she was the queen of bartering and bullshitting.

Nadia snorted, the bitterness screwing her face into a derisive smirk. _I could sell shit to a shepherd, but that don't count for shit if I don't have "on paper" experience._

She raised her gaze to the staircase where her roommate Erin sat with an un-lit cigarette in her mouth.

"No good?"

Nadia shook her head.

"No good. Going outside?"

"Yeah."

"Cool, I'm coming with you." Nadia got back up and shrugged her coat back on, taking a pack of Marlboros out of her pocket. She reached the stairs as Erin took the last step, and they linked arms and crept out the back door.

The little redhead lit her smoke and passed Nadia her lighter.

"What a waste of a good interview outfit. Seriously, you look fuckin' hot."

Nadia lit her cigarette and passed the lighter back to Erin. She inhaled deeply, held it, and then let the smoke roll out through her nose.

"Shut the fuck up." She looked down at the matte black heels and black pencil skirt. _Goddam right I look fuckin' hot._

"Fuck you, you do!"

Nadia snorted. "Not hot enough for an insurance office, apparently. Or too hot? I hadn't seen so many women sneer at me since prison, and even then, that was tame." She sighed and flicked ashes to the concrete patio. "If I don't get a legit job soon… I don't know, Erin. I might not have a choice. I found my cache, all of my tools and gear are still there."

Erin rubbed at her bottom lip and nodded. "I don't like it, but shit… you gotta do what you gotta do, sister. I'll keep my eyes peeled." She took a hard drag of her cigarette, then exhaled slowly. Her eyes darted back and forth and she licked her lips nervously. "I did see this crazy big mansion on the bus home today, security didn't look too bad–"

"Wait. No details, not yet. I've got one more job interview tomorrow. Let's see how that goes first."

"What for?"

"Secretary, some lawyer."

Erin quirked an eyebrow. "Really. You really think a lawyer is going to hire a convict?"

Nadia finished her cigarette and flicked it out into the street.

"He'd better, or it's back to the life."

* * *

Crowley poured himself another glass of scotch, his signature smirk spreading across his lips. He got her out of Camino Nuevo, and he made sure each interview was a bust. It was only a matter of time before she came to him. The trap was set. He decreased the patrols, and aside from a few necessary sigils, removed all magical wards. _Bloody clever, that woman. She'd sniff those out in a heartbeat._

He unbuttoned the lawyer's suit jacket and sat in the lawyer's chair, downing the glass of scotch in the process. With a snap of his fingers, the empty tumbler became a full, steaming mug of coffee. It was almost show time. He opened the left drawer and pulled out a mirror, checking the temporary meatsuit's appearance. _Bloody hell, I look like Jon Hamm gave up on acting to become a smarmy injury lawyer._ It was perfect.

Crowley looked at the clock. 8:59am. As it struck nine, there was a knock at the door. He grinned.

"Come in!"

* * *

Nadia opened the door reading "James A. Michaels, Esq." and stepped in. "Mind if I hang up my coat?" she asked, not waiting for an answer as she set down her briefcase and shrugged off the long, brown leather coat and hung it up. She shook off the cold and picked up her case again, turning to get a look at this James A. Michaels.

He was tall, a little more handsome than the average man, but he was just that, average. Something about him seemed off to her, though. A smell lingered in the air that reminded her faintly of blown-out matches and campfire. A memory flashed in her mind, hiding away in the hills of Scotland as a teen. Had she ever been there? The memory floated away like wisps of smoke in the rain.

He was standing behind his desk, and for a moment he seemed shocked. As quickly as the shock was there, it seemed to pass, and he stepped around the desk and held out a hand.

"Hello, Miss… uh… "

"Romancek," she offered, taking his hand to shake it.

"Romancek," he purred. He bent slightly at the waist and brought her hand to his lips. His mouth lingered a little too long; it made her skin crawl, but something told her this was familiar. She smelled rotten eggs, but behind it, the scent of damp moss and clean, wet grass blinked in and out. The memory flashed in again, but this time she felt the press of a thumb on the corner of her lips and someone's forehead pressed to hers.

Nadia tried to calm her heart rate. When the lawyer stood straight again and flashed her a grin, she returned his smile and cleared her throat. "May I sit?" He sat down and laughed.

"I'm sure you'll do it whether I give you permission or not, Miss Romancek. Go ahead, have a seat."

He only maintained eye contact until she sat, and then he made a show of letting his eyes slowly drift down her entire body, stopping at the hem of her skirt and back up to her eyes again. When his eyes met hers again, though, something changed in his face. Lust turned to longing, and his eyes flicked down to her lips as his breath hitched.

Nadia crossed her arms under her chest and drummed her fingertips against her bicep. This was starting to piss her off.

"Mr. Michaels, if you'd like me to come back another time–"

"No. Sorry, I… just didn't expect someone like you."

_Here we go. Another fucking waste of time._ She gave him a once-over and smirked. _Eh. Might as well have some fun._ While he straightened himself up and looked through her resume and cover letter, Nadia let her mask slip on. Her eyes went wide and innocent, and she licked her lips to make them glisten.

"Someone like me?" She let her tightly crossed legs go a little slack, just enough to give a few more inches look up her skirt, but not enough to flash her panties. His eyes flicked to the movement, and she swore she heard a soft growl before his eyes locked on hers. They were dark and hungry, but cautious. He was a caged beast offered raw meat, but he knew damn well who was doing the offering.

Nadia leaned forward and placed both hands flat on the desk. She rose from her chair slowly, keeping her hands on the table, staying bent, letting him get a good look down her blouse. She stood straight and walked around behind the desk, and before he had a chance to react, she had him by the belt and yanked him to his feet.

"Wha–OOF!"

Nadia pushed him hard against the bookcase and climbed up a shelf to wrap her legs around his waist. She made quick work of his tie, slipping it from around his neck. She licked and nipped at his collarbone and rolled her hips. He responded with a low moan and yanked her closer, one arm around her waist and one hand firmly gripped to her ass. He flipped them and pressed her against the shelves, grinding hard and slow against the little bundle of nerves between her legs. She gasped and mewled her approval. _C'mon, Nadia, get control._ She gave his ear a nip and whispered, "Sit."

He lowered them to the chair, and as if under a spell, his caresses became gentle, and he pressed tender kisses to her throat. She got up from his lap and moved around behind him, lightly teasing his scalp with her fingernails. He let out a soft whine at the loss of her.

"Do you trust me?" she said as she bent down to drag her tongue along the shell of his ear. Her fingertips danced down his arms, and he went limp.

"Mmmmm…. Mm-hmm." He was practically in a trance, putty in her hands.

Nadia gave out a long, low chuckle.

"You shouldn't."

* * *

Before Crowley could ask what she meant, she had his hands tied behind the chair. _Cheeky girl._ He grinned up at her as she came around in front of him and made to unbutton her blouse.

"Hmmm… Should I?" She put a finger to her lips and looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think.

_Yes, yes, you should, you definitely should._ He struggled to get free. He wanted to rip that pretty little blouse, right down the front.

His grin faded as she picked up her briefcase and walked to the coat rack.

"It's been fun, Jimmy. Catch you on the flipside."

Once he heard the door click, he smoked out of James and back to his own meatsuit that he'd left sitting in the closet. Crowley smoothed his hair back and adjusted his tie. He stepped out into the office to see James trying to break out of the chair.

"What the fuck?! How… YOU! What did you do?!"

" _Tabula rasa._ "

James went limp. Crowley snapped his fingers and set the office to rights, making it look like the sleazy lawyer simply fell asleep in his chair. And when he woke up, all of this would just be a weird dream.

Crowley teleported back to his home and collapsed on the couch in his office. Some weird dream, indeed. His thoughts drifted to the wild, beautiful gypsy girl who knew him as Fergus. She never gave her name, but he knew every curve of her body, and he knew those hazel brown eyes.

He had no idea when he set this up he'd be running into his gypsy again. All he knew was that he was chasing down a powerful witch, who for centuries remained unlinked to any demon, or any coven. She worked alone, constantly moving, not only employing her skills in magic, but her skills in assassination and thievery to survive and sock money away.

Now he knew where his gypsy was, and he knew she was the witch he'd been trying to catch all these years.

Crowley chuckled. Crowley laughed. And laughed.

_Oh, my little gypsy. How I will make you suffer._


	2. The Con

_A few nights later…_

Nadia waited until the clock hit 11pm. She knew the probie officer was most likely crashed in her office, having fallen asleep by now. She made sure of that when she slipped a few quick-melt melatonin sheets in her chamomile tea, about 15 milligrams, she guessed. It'd be enough to make her sleep through the night.

She slipped out of bed and stripped off her nightgown, then pulled a black duffel bag out from under her bunk. She heard Erin sit up and put on her glasses.

"Nadia, you going?"

"Yeah." She pulled her boots on over her black leggings and clicked the toggles of her tool harness shut. Her hair was pulled back in a tight braid, the excess hair wrapped in a bun at the base of her skull, kept in place by extra lockpicks. She tucked small throwing knives and syringes into the handmade sheathes around the calves of her boots. She hoped she wouldn't need them, but sometimes the universe had other plans for her.

"Did you check that place out?"

"Yeah. Just like you said, very minimal security." _No wards, either._ "I don't have the best feeling about this," she sighed, "but at this point, I don't have much of a choice."

Erin nibbled at her fingernails.

"Maybe you shouldn't go. I can get you a job at Tootie's, it's not glamorous, doesn't make much, but at least it ain't risky. Or illegal."

Nadia pinched the bridge of her nose and considered it for a moment. She shook her head and tugged a black stocking cap down over her hair.

"I'll be fine. In and out. My fence already has a heads up that I'm coming. I just need a couple hundred bucks worth of stuff, just enough to pay my share of rent. And don't even say you'll cover mine, I can't let you do that."

Nadia stood up and double-checked all of her tools and weapons, and made sure all her harnesses and belts were secure. Erin crept down from the top bunk and stood in front of the warm black shape that was Nadia.

"Just…" Erin paused for a moment, then threw her arms around her friend's waist and squeezed. "Be careful. Please." Nadia hugged her back.

"Don't wait up. I'll come back with some ice cream and we'll braid our hair and bitch about everyone like we always do."

Erin snickered and pulled back to climb back into bed. Nadia helped push her up, then she was out the window before Erin's head hit the pillow.

* * *

Crowley waited. He knew she'd be coming soon to loot his home. And when she did, he'd make her an offer so generous she'd have to accept. He wouldn't work her soul into the deal just yet. All he wanted for now was her servitude.

He heard her lockpicking tools clicking around in the deadbolt to his office. Right on time.

* * *

Nadia exhaled as she heard the deadbolt open. Silent as the grave, she slipped into the grand office and looked around through her night vision goggles. Before she could make out the shape behind the desk, she was blinded by all the lights clicking on.

"GODDAMNIT," she screamed as she threw off the goggles. Once her senses came back, she didn't think twice before she dove for the nearest window.

 _SHIT, they're locked!_ She felt someone behind her and reached for her dagger, but the stranger was quicker. Strong hands twisted her arms behind her back, and she let out a pained cry.

"Calm down, promise to keep your hands where I can see them, and I'll let you go," the stranger breathed into her ear. His voice was rich, husky, and had a velvety smooth English accent that bordered on Cockney. Her head spun with pain, and she swore she smelled that mossy, rainy campfire smell from before. He tightened his hold and she whimpered.

"Promise, love."

She nodded.

"I promise! Please! You're hurting me."

"And you were about to steal from me, so we're almost even."

He released her and shoved her down onto the couch. She rubbed her wrists for a moment then held her hands up in defense. He stayed standing, and he smirked down at her with his hands in his pockets.

"Take off the hat."

Nadia removed her hat and tossed it to the floor, then raised her hands back up and finally met his gaze. Just like the man from earlier today, there was something familiar about him. She knew it was a different man, but still, she couldn't help feeling she knew him from somewhere. It was his eyes. She knew those eyes from somewhere.

* * *

Crowley thought for a moment that maybe she'd recognized him. Hell, she couldn't even sense what he was. It was almost better that she hadn't. He had to wonder, though… why?

He stepped closer and took her chin in his fingertips, gently tilting her head back and forth to get a look at her scalp tattoos. _Anti-possession sigil, various warding marks in demon and Enochian alike, a few Romanian words… wait._

A very powerful mind-erase spell looped along the edge of her mohawk. He couldn't know from looking at it what she meant to forget.

He released her chin, letting his thumb brush the corner of her lips before putting his hands back in his pockets. She closed her eyes and flinched like she was struck with a sudden headache. The spell on her scalp shimmered briefly.

"What's your name?"

Nadia opened her eyes and looked up at him again.

"Nadia."

"Nadia… ?"

"Romancek."

He pulled up a chair in front of her, their hazel eyes never breaking away from each other.

"Pleased to meet you, Nadia Romancek. Do you know who I am?" He straddled the chair and sat close to her, his knees resting against the couch cushion on either side of her legs. The little gypsy held his gaze defiantly, though she flinched back an inch.

"Nope. Just a damn clever mark."

He chuckled and crossed his arms over the back of the chair.

"The name's Crowley. Now, I figure this little event can go one of two ways. Option A: I call the police and get your cute little bum put behind bars for a _very_ long time. How's that sound?"

Nadia glared at him.

"Sounds like shit. What's Option B?"

"I give you a job."

* * *

Nadia had to have misheard him. Without thinking, she dropped her hands in her lap.

"… Well, I wasn't expecting that," she admitted. "What do you mean, 'a job'?"

Crowley smirked and stood back up to return the chair.

"Just that, a job. Tax forms, official paychecks, et cetera. Something to keep you out of Camino Nuevo. Something legitimate. Scotch?"

Nadia crossed her arms and legs. She was suspicious, and she was more than happy to let him know that with her body language. So he knew she was in Camino Nuevo. For some reason, that didn't surprise her. She'd bet ten years that he set this whole thing up.

"Not yet. What kind of job? And what's the catch?"

She watched him as he shrugged, smiled, and poured two glasses of scotch.

"Housekeeping. Cleaning, cooking… reinforcing security. Bodyguard duty. And possibly a few not-so-legal jobs here and there. You'll get regular paychecks to keep the State of New Mexico off your back, and any 'extra-curricular' work will be paid in cash, under the table. You'll have an apartment of your own within my home, a 'company car', and a credit card, for any business-related purchases."

This couldn't be good. Not one bit.

"Still not hearing the catch."

He handed her a glass of scotch. She took it, but didn't drink.

"Just the standard legal mumbo. You work for me and only me, you live and work here all day, all night. Well, you'll get time off of course, I can't work you more than forty hours a week, after all. Days off will be spent here, or you'll be accompanied by one of my goons."

Nadia sighed and looked down at her drink.

"One way or another, I'll be in prison. Just a nicer one, that's all."

She felt the couch shift as Crowley sat next to her, giving her a few feet of space.

"Oh come now, love. Wait 'til you see the apartment. Certainly better than a cell. I've got a full gym in the basement, too. Sauna, pool…"

She turned to look at him and caught his eyes roaming her body.

"… hot tub." His eyes met hers, and the heat behind them made her heart stop. She shot up off the couch and stalked to the other side of the room. She needed space from him, but she couldn't escape the feeling of his eyes on her.

"I won't be your whore, so you can stop with that shit before it starts." She turned and shot a look at him. He lifted his hands in defense and looked away.

"Sorry, darling. I can't help but appreciate your beauty, and you do have it in spades. I promise I won't make any untoward advances. Unless you initiate them, that is." His eyes snapped back to hers. _That damn hazel… where have I seen those eyes?_

She looked down at her scotch and fidgeted with her glass.

"Can I get my stuff from the halfway house and say goodbye?"

Warm hands closed around hers, stilling her nervous fingers.

"Of course, love," he purred. He leaned down to her ear, and when she felt the softest brush of his lips against it, she shivered. "So… do we have a deal?"

Nadia pulled back and downed her scotch, wincing as it burned its way down her throat and sent tingles to every extremity.

"Yeah. Deal."


	3. About A Boy and A Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Sexual situations involving teens. But it takes place in the 1600's, so as far as I'm concerned, they're adults. Thirty-five was old back then.

_Scotland, 1679 – Nadia, 16_

_Nadia's chest heaved as she hid behind the thick trunk of the giant oak tree. A young man's rich Scottish brogue drifted in on the wind, over the stone walls and between the old, crumbling tombstones._

_"Oy! Lass! Where'd you get to?" he bellowed._

_The leggy little gypsy tried to stifle a giggle. The breeze plucked daisy petals from her hair and carried them away._

_"I'll find you sooner or later, love. Better be sooner, or your pert little arse'll get a smack!"_

_Oh, no. Nadia couldn't resist._

_"Promise?"_

_She waited, and listened._

_And listened. The entire graveyard seemed to go quiet. No footsteps, no nothing. Her breathing had slowed, and still the quiet made each exhale a lion's roar._

_"Fergus?" Her heartbeat in her ears was loud and hard, like her father's drums. It scared her even more._

_"Fergus," she hissed, "stop this."_

_Nadia couldn't take it any longer. Even the wind held its breath as the gypsy girl flattened her body against the mighty oak and peeked around and under a low branch._

_"GOTCHA!"_

_"AAAAAAAHH DAMN YOU FERGUS! DAMN YOU TO H—" Nadia's scream was silenced by Scottish lips on hers, and rough tailor's fingers felt every hem, thread, and cord; they tugged, pulled, and undid her in more ways than one. Her fingers trembled as they unlaced his trousers and pushed them down his thighs._

_"Mmm, good girl," he groaned against her throat. He hoisted her legs around his hips and pushed her skirts up around her waist. He pressed her against the tree and kissed her jaw. "My bonnie gypsy lass." He rested his forehead against hers and brought both hands to her face._

_It began to rain, and while the oak provided shelter, water goes where it will. In less than a moment, the lovers were tasting fresh rain on each others' lips. Fergus pulled back to look into her eyes._

_"Are you ready, love?"_

_Nadia reached around to the back of his head and nestled her fingertips in his hair and nodded. "Yes, Fergus. I'm always ready for you."_

_He smirked and rested his brow against hers again, tenderly thumbing the corner of her mouth._

_In one swift thrust, he filled the empty ache in her. She gasped at the sudden intrusion, and Fergus began to move against her. It wasn't long before they both reached their bliss, and the skies thundered in applause._


	4. Ashes and Wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some torture porn, lots of angst. Gets violent.

Nadia barely had time to set down her glass before Crowley tugged her close and trapped her in his arms. Her eyes widened in panic and she struggled to get free.

“Get off!”

“Plan to, darling.” His grin was wicked and wide before he crushed her mouth in a bruising kiss. A searing pain spiderwebbed out from her lips to her toes, and her skin seemed to go up in flames. When he pulled back and grinned, his eyes were as red as her blood on his teeth.

The thief screamed and struggled harder, and she could smell burning hair and flesh coming from her scalp tattoo at the sight of him. Her head throbbed and her mind spun with words and images that warped and distorted the more she tried to focus on them.

_“… he’s looking for you, girl, run while you can…” “… crossroads…” “… soul deal…” “… every witch needs a master…” “… tortures them…” “… needles and thread… “_

When Nadia’s voice finally gave out from her screams, everything went black. The demon shook her back to life. He wasn’t finished.

“Oh no, love,” Crowley growled as he hoisted her up over his shoulder. “Miles to go before you sleep.”

Everything shifted and spun around them for a second before Nadia was thrown down on a bed in a darkened room. She tossed herself over the other side of the king-size mattress and pulled a dagger from her boot. She then spun to face him, only to find the room empty.

Nadia tried to listen, but the burning feeling on her scalp intensified.

“I’ll find you sooner or later, love,” Crowley breathed from behind her. He only caught a gleam of steel in the moonlight before Nadia’s dagger was at his neck. The King of Hell didn’t flinch or even bat an eye; he just stood there, grinning at her.

“You know that won’t kill me, Nadia. It’ll just piss me off.”

The edge of her blade scraped up his Adam’s apple, taking a little stubble with it. Nadia laughed, but her eyes were wild with anguish and fury.

“Yeah? Let’s talk about what pisses us off, shall we? I was just tricked into a goddam crossroads deal where almost no terms were discussed. How long before the dogs come howling and hungry for me? Ten years? Five? What is that compared my triple-digit lifespan? And for what?! What am I getting out of this? I get a bi-weekly paycheck and some odd cash to do your laundry and any other bullshit you don’t want to dirty your hands with?”

His eyes twinkled and gleamed in the dim bedroom light.

“So glad you asked, darling. Let’s pull up your contract, shall we?”

Nadia shrieked and dropped the dagger as red-hot markings sizzled to the surface of her skin, from the top of her head down to the soles of her feet. With a snap of Crowley’s fingers, she was thrown to the bed and shackled to the posts. The markings burned hotter, and her clothes began to smoke and smolder and burn away. The fresh air on her raw, sizzling skin was both divine and excruciating.

In a flash, Crowley was hovering over her, and he chuckled as she writhed in agony.

“First of all, pet, you get to keep your soul; it’s the rest of you I want to bend to my will. You will be a part of my little monster-hunting task force, occasionally. Freelance, I suppose, for hunts that may require a certain expertise in being a thieving little gypsy rat.”

She whimpered and wept as he went lower, inch by searing inch, pointing out bits and pieces of her contract he thought she should learn straight out of the gate. Limited contact with the outside world. Any other hunters she’s sent to work with, she keeps communication with them to a minimum.

When he gently grazed her belly with his fingertips, he told her she is to keep her body clean by eating and drinking clean. Her side of the deal in return for that one was being able to drink all the good quality, natural alcohol she wanted; good wines, whiskeys, vodkas, beers, whatever. Also, quality additive-free tobacco and cannabis, and she could drink as much coffee as she liked, and add what she liked, as long as they were healthy; coconut milk, almond milk, heavy cream, caramel made from coconut sugar and salted Irish butter… she had no problem with that. She’d miss her hush puppies, but there was plenty of Cajun and Creole cuisine that had more “good” carbs than bad. She’d eat tree bark if he’d stop clawing at her burns.

As Crowley’s fingers traced the marks, they vanished. The skin healed and cooled, leaving behind no scars. Nadia’s tears of pain became rivulets of relief and ecstasy. The moment became tense, however, when Crowley’s hand brushed over the soft, dark curls of her pubic mound and lightly cupped her. His middle finger rested against her slit for a moment before he began to trace his fingertip up and down her seam.

Terrified, Nadia tried to squirm away. The demon’s hand gripped her a little tighter, and his other hand came down to pin her by her neck.

“Calm down, girl. There’s nothing in this part for me. You hold all the cards here.”

The hand on her neck swept down and behind her back. Crowley pulled Nadia to a straddling position on his upper thighs. He kept a hand on her back to hold her close, and one hand teased and played with the soft, outer petals of her vulva.

Nadia was exhausted, and she wanted nothing more than to get a little release and rest. Her eyes met his, and just like the lawyer’s eyes, his were dark, lustful and furious until they were looking into hers. Just like the lawyer’s eyes, they held something like longing, or heartbreak.

“Here is my gift to you, Nadia,” he whispered. He swallowed hard and moved the hand that teased her up against her cheek, and his eyes dropped to her mouth, wet with blood and tears. He brushed his thumb along the corner of her bottom lip.

“Nothing penetrates you more than an inch. No bullet, no blade. No… person. Not me, not you, no one, nothing. Not without your permission, or your consent.”

Exhausted though she was, and as good as his arms and hands felt all over her body, Nadia was not about to go down without a fight. She grinned, and then spit a chunk of her inner cheek and a good few tablespoons of blood in his face.

“An inch is probably all you need, ain’t it Mister Crowley?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no. Ohhhh no she didn't. Keep in mind, this all takes place early season 6, after “Weekend at Bobby’s”. Love and hugs, and please review!


	5. I'm Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadia receives punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Some torture.

Nadia knew she made a mistake the moment it came out of her mouth, but there was no turning back now. Crowley began to shake in rage, and blood red smoke curled from his eyes. His fingers dug into her so hard, she was sure if he grabbed and tore he’d flay her. If she didn’t know something worse was coming, this moment would be the most horrific torture of all; fear froze her in place as she waited for the fist, the fire, _anything,_ but he wasn’t moving.

She squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself for inevitable pain.

* * *

It was a little funny to him. All these years he imagined how he’d break her, if he ever saw her again—fantasized about it, really—and since her “interview”, he’d been hoping she’d give him any reason at all to punish her. 

Here it was, the moment he’d been waiting for since the day she left him… and suddenly he couldn’t. Oh, he was furious, to be sure. He wanted to beat her to a bloody pulp, his fingers twitched and begged to peel her like an apple, but a part of him he thought was dead and gone roared to life, and wanted to shake her and scream at her to take it back. Wanted to hold her tight and tell her how fucking badly he missed her, and didn’t care why she left, only that she was back, pressed into him, where she was always meant to be. The war inside of him was a terrible one.

She closed her eyes and flinched, and the ache grew, but something had to be done. 

* * *

 Nadia flew backward and hit her head on the wall with a hard _THUD_. The chains pulled tight and yanked her arms and legs out spread-eagle, and she lost any slack to struggle with. She watched as Crowley removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves as he made his way over to what looked like a tool chest. He flicked a switch and the light blinded her for a moment. When her eyes adjusted, she saw him grab a scalpel and turn back to her.

“You’ll learn very quickly that I have no tolerance for ‘cute.’ Your cute little mouth just got you in a lot of trouble, Nadia.”

She tried to scoot away as he sat on the bed next to her, but he grabbed her hair and yanked her head to the side to look at her tattoos. She felt a sting and hissed as her scalp burned and her head ached.

“What’s the forgetting spell for?”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, forgetting her pain for a moment.

“You can read it?” He smirked and slid the blade across the marks, and Nadia screamed through grit teeth.

“No, I can’t, which is why I’m curious. Oh, look at that! It heals itself! What if I strip it off?”

“What? Don’t—AHHHHHHHHHHH!” Blood squirted down her face, and the horrible sound of ripping skin filled her ears.

“Are you remembering anything? Does cutting it off make it go away?”

“STOP! Please stop,” she sobbed, and she felt the skin itching and burning as it mended itself.

“Hmm… comes right back,” he muttered, seemingly to no one but himself. Nadia sighed with relief as it finished healing. She felt the tip of the scalpel tickle its way down her temple and down to the corner of her mouth.

“I-I don’t know what it is. I can’t read it, nobody can. If it’s… if it’s a forgetting spell, how am I supposed to know what I’m meant to have forgotten?”

He looked into her eyes, and she hoped he could see that she was telling the truth.

“Tell me, love… ever been to Northberwyke?”

She yelped and whined as the tattoo sizzled, as though it were bristling at the sound. That mossy smell came back again, and she thought her head would split in half. 

“The hex seems to think so,” she breathed, “but I honestly can’t...”

* * *

 She fainted from the pain, and Crowley sat up and watched her for a moment. _Did she put the spell on herself? Or did someone do it to her?_ He didn’t trust her. With “the Nightingale’s” centuries-long reputation of getting by on thievery, magic and allure, even a complete idiot wouldn’t trust her. Now that he knew his little gypsy lover was the Nightingale, it all made sense. He snorted and wondered if he was her very first mark, and he wasn’t quite sure whether to feel angry or proud.

The last time he saw her, he asked her to run away with him, leave North Berwick, leave her caravan, leave it all and make a new life together.

_“You don’t even know my name, Fergus,” she whispered, rubbing her thumb across his jaw. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she smiled up at him._

_“You’ll tell me when you’re ready. You’ll at least have to tell me when we get married, else it don’t count, y’know.” He brushed her tears away and kissed his favorite spot at the corner of her mouth. She turned and kissed him back, smiling and laughing between sobs._

_“You didn’t even ask me to marry you.”_

_“Like you’d have said no, ya wee harpy.” He grinned and nuzzled his nose to hers. She giggled and nipped at his bottom lip._

_“Well, I need to pack a few things. Meet me back here just before dawn?”_

He never saw her again, until she walked through Michaels’s door. He didn’t know who he expected this Nightingale would be, but he certainly didn’t expect her.

Nadia stirred and opened her eyes. Crowley watched her blink in confusion, and then they settled on him and widened.

“Please… no more. I don’t know anything… it hurts to try…”

He was getting tired of this game, anyway. He snapped his fingers to unshackle her, then threw her a bag from on top of the tool chest. The King of Hell kept his eyes locked on hers as she carefully reached for the bag and opened it.

“Just clothes, love. You wanted to go back and get your things, right? Get dressed.”

She eyed the clothes as she took them out one by one.

“And if I don’t?”

He grinned at her. “Then you’ll go naked.”

She sighed and slipped into the jeans, socks and shoes, but when she slipped the top on, it was _way_ too snug for her. She glowered at him.

“Really?”

He shrugged, his familiar smirk never leaving his face. _Ready, aim… fire._

“Oops. Must have grabbed one of Erin’s.” 

* * *

Nadia’s blood ran cold.

“What do you mean, ‘must have grabbed one of Erin’s’?”

The world spun for a second, and they were in Erin and Nadia’s room at the halfway house.

“JESUS!”

Nadia turned at the sound of Erin’s voice, and the redhead looked relieved, and then her blue-green eyes widened in panic when she saw Crowley.

“Go ahead, Erin,” Crowley’s breath was almost scalding on Nadia’s ear, “tell her how we know each other.”

The witch thought her heart would break as her only real friend in this world looked down in shame.

“Nadia, I’m sorry…” Erin’s voice was soft, and cracked like glass. “Seven years ago, I made a deal—“

“Stop.” Nadia understood. It hurt like hell, but she understood.

“I didn’t want to.”

“I know,” the gypsy sighed. “Did you at least get to keep what you sold your soul for in the first place?” Erin nodded. “Good. Someday you’ll tell me what I’ve just sold my life away for, but for now… well, I think I’m going to get the alone time I need here for a while.”

Nadia pulled her in for a hug.

“But I won’t go away without telling you it’s okay. This isn’t your fault. You got put in a tight spot, and you did the best you could.” She felt Erin trembling with unshed tears, and she understood that, too. Neither of them would give Crowley the satisfaction of their tears in that moment.

“All right ladies, Kumbaya’s over.”

* * *

That didn’t quite go how he planned, he wanted Nadia to cut herself off from Erin completely, but he supposed he could use it to his advantage. If she didn’t cooperate, it’d be easier to get her to budge if her friend’s life was at stake.

She was just unpacking her things into the already furnished and stocked attic apartment. He watched her from the doorway to her bedroom, and she was obviously trying to ignore him. Every time she breezed by, he caught a whiff of her hair and tried not to react to the memories that flooded back with her scent. If he didn’t get out of there soon, he was going to lose it. Sure, he couldn’t fuck her unless she consented, but he had no doubt that he could have her begging for it in minutes. Then again, where was the fun in that?

Crowley tossed a phone on the bed as she finished the last of her packing. “It can’t make any outgoing calls except to me, and it can only receive calls from me. It is to remain on and near you at all times. Your cleaning and chore schedule is in your nightstand. If you need to leave to run errands, call me and I’ll arrange for one of my underlings to take you.”

“You were serious about the cleaning part? I thought I was just your in-house witch and thief extraordinaire?”

“Of course I was serious. Houses don’t clean themselves, and you won’t exactly be gone on adventures every day, might as well put you to good use.”

Nadia rolled her eyes and plugged the phone into the wall, then pulled the schedule out of the nightstand drawer to take a look.

“Holy shit. At least I won’t be bored.”

Crowley couldn’t resist. He slinked up behind her and nuzzled his nose behind her ear as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “If you _do_ get bored, you know how to reach me. I’ll keep you well entertained.” He felt her tense up against him.

“Thanks, but I’d rather be torn to bits by hellhounds.”

The King of Hell laughed and gave her ass a smack as he stepped away from her.

“On that note, I’ll leave you to settle in. Get some rest while you can, Nightingale.” 

* * *

Before she had a chance to retort, he was gone. At least, she hoped he was. She wasn’t certain he didn’t have the room bugged, tech-wise or supernatural. She smirked. _Both, most likely._

Still, she couldn’t let him intimidate her. If she had to live each moment worrying that he was watching her, she might just die of stress and exhaustion, and he’d win. Nadia let out a sigh and sat on the bed and began to unravel her braid. When she got to her scalp, she felt the raised markings of what she now knew to be a forgetting spell. She tried to think of her earliest memories. Childhood through adolescence, she was with the caravan. She remembered Mama teaching her to make jewelry woven with magic, showing her which gems were best for which spells. She remembered Papa’s drums when they sang and danced for money on the country roads and village streets. She remembered a place… North Berwick.

The spell sizzled, but Nadia clenched her jaw and fought through it. _North Berwick… Scotland. We stopped there for weeks…_ The pain grew, and she smelled burning flesh and hair once more. She had to keep pushing. She had to know the boundaries and limits of it. _No, not weeks… Months. And then…_

The brigands. Nadia remembered being dragged by her bound wrists for miles, blindfolded and gagged.

_Nadia felt the warmth of a campfire, and heard the laughter of maybe a dozen men. She blinked away the brightness as the blindfold and gag came off, and she spun to try and see the person who took her. There was nothing but the faint jingling of coins and a few footprints; her attacker was gone. When she turned back to the fire, she counted six men seated in the light, and six more hanging back in the darkness. Most of their eyes were on her, and she felt a hand glide up her thigh under her skirts…_

Nadia pitched herself off the bed and vomited into the nearest trash can. Once the burning in her throat eased and the dizziness faded, she stumbled to the kitchen and cranked the water on lukewarm and dunked her head under the running faucet. Relief rolled down her body in waves, and she shook the water from her hair and staggered back to bed.

She dreamed of a Scottish boy.


End file.
